Memories
by ImThatTypeOfGirl
Summary: "I only watched as he sat curled in the tiny clearing, gazing up at the moon." Kate Benedict relives her memories of the day she met Jack Frost. Will she ever find him again, and the memories they share? One-shot with OC x Jack Frost!


**A/N: Hi all :D. In the best of moods; I went to see Rise of the Guardians last weekend and have been working on this all week. A little story of how a young girl meets Jack Frost and what happens after. I personally don't know how this story will feel to you guys but I really like it so please please _please_ drop me a comment, it will only take a second! :D**

**I also must say that I'm really sorry, I so should have been writing 'When Darkness Walks' but I'm waiting for season seven of CM for Christmas to get my motivation/inspiration going again. I promise I'll try to post soon!**

* * *

**MEMORIES**

I met him once before, you know. But it was a long time ago.

I was five, if I remember correctly. It was Christmas Eve; the trees were laden with the night's blizzard, the ground was sparkling with a blanket of snow. It was dark, it was midnight. No clouds; it was far too cold for clouds. I was holding my mother's hand.

My mother, father and I would go - every Christmas Eve - to the Light Walk in Glen Forest. The trees and bushes and plants that had survived the frost would be dressed in fine gowns of dazzling fairy lights that bounced of the snow and chased away the shadows. Families would spend hours walking the marked out routes that stretched out over the vast area of woodland, taking in the amazing show of lights produced only the night before.

Even though the memory was beautiful I should have forgotten it by now, should have pushed it to the corner of my mind where all my childhood memories slept. But I can still remember what happened as if it were yesterday.

My mother and father were holding hands and nodding and smiling as I ran around, crying out in delight at the magnificence of everything. I can feel the ice of the wind on my face now, the tug of the breeze through my chocolate locks, the crunch of the frosted snow underfoot. They turned and veered down the green path, decorated with tiny coloured baubles and winding red lines along the ground.

"Come on, Kate, darling," I heard my mother say, as she entwined her fingers in my father's and continued down the path.

But I was staring, awestruck, at the route on my left. Twisting blue cables of icy blue and dark gold stretched out in winding patterns over my head and up through the trees, like fingers reaching up to touch the star-spangled sky. Lining the way were tiny white Christmas trees with small, delicate strands of tinsel finely woven through their branches, sparkling like the snow they sat upon.

I had barely even heard my mother. I walked quietly down the path, the chatter of the other groups falling far behind me and fading into the distance. Utterly mesmerized, my father would have said, as I gently traced my gloved fingers across the huge, glistening icicles dangling from the trees.

I don't know how much time I spent just gazing and gazing at the beautiful wonderland before me. It could have been minutes or hours but eventually the path began to turn round and I knew this would take me back home.

But I didn't want to go home; I wanted to walk through this amazing place forever until I was swallowed by stars.

I was then I saw it, a silvery blue flash into the darkness of the forest, like a willow-o-the-wisp taunting the weak.

I left the Light Walk far behind and followed the shape as it danced through the dark. After a while I realised it was a person, running away. I began to run too, faster and faster and faster, and the cold bit at my cheeks and the wind snarled through my hair like wild wolves and then –

Silence.

Pure, blissful, and serene. I couldn't hear my panting breaths, frosting in the air. I couldn't hear my slowing feet as the rustle of the snow got quieter. I only watched as he sat curled in the tiny clearing, gazing up at the moon. It glinted off his snowy white hair, his ashen skin, his icy blue eyes. His jumper was patterned with frost, as were his soft brown trousers. At his side lay a stick, awkwardly hooked at the end, nestled in the snow as if it belonged.

I'm not sure if he was speaking, maybe I added that part in later. But if he was he seemed to be talking to the moon. It was full tonight, and big. You could make out its craters and dips, every tiny freckle on its face. My father used to make jokes about the Man in the Moon. When it was so close I wondered if he was real.

I don't know _why_ I did it, broke the silence, broke the peace. But he looked sad and alone and so very cold I just _did_.

"Are you alright?"

He jumped, suddenly frightened and looked around. His eyes rested on me briefly, before moving away. I can still remember every detail of their beauty, like the ocean in the sun, like ice on the water, like…sapphires in the moonlight.

He was laughing now, a bright, child-like laugh. It annoys me that this is the part of the memory that falters, that fades in places like an old photograph that no-one has seen in years. He seemed amazed that I could see him, and then we were dancing, me standing on his feet while he laughed and swung me around the clearing. It was like something out of a movie; the dancing, the clearing, everything covered in snow and set alight by the stars and the moon.

And then it was over.

So soon.

"Kate! Where _are_ you?" It was my mother.

"Kate! Are you there?" And my father.

And I was so very, _very_ lost.

I looked at him, quiet now after the fun before. He smiled and spoke very slowly so that I would remember and understand what he was saying.

"You won't forget now, will you?"

I shook my head, listening to his voice and the way the tones made me feel inside.

"Always believe, and everything will be okay."

Those words could have sounded corny, but coming from his lips they sounded like law. I can remember hardly anything after that. It was cold and dark and the wind seemed too loud. And then I was staggering into my mother's arms and she was crying. I kept trying to ask her why; I was okay, I had had a great time, but my lips wouldn't seem to move.

I refused to let go of that night. It sat in my head like a tower, a tower made of stone that no-one could move. I held the memory throughout all of my primary school years, making sure I wouldn't forget a single detail. But like that old photograph, things began to fade. I drew pictures, I wrote the whole thing down, but I couldn't know it was real anymore. My parents called me obsessed and my friends drifted away. I didn't care. That one night was so magical and so special and so _right_. Nothing would ever – _could_ ever, move my tower.

I was determined to prove everyone wrong, that I wasn't obsessed or crazy, that this had happened and he was real. I read about him in a small, dusty old book in the library, and learned his name. '_Nothing more than folk lore,"_ dismissed the author. I carried on my search, regardless.

No-one had felt the same way as I had, dancing on his feet in that moonlit clearing oh so long ago. If they _had_, then they would understand why I so desperately longed to see him again. I can't recall when I decided. A couple of days ago? Or maybe it was just yesterday? But I'm going.

We've jumped forward now, to the present. My name is Kate Benedict and I'm nearly fifteen years old and I've still not forgotten about my tower, standing strong and proud. I've decided to find him, to at least thank him for such fun, almost ten years back.

It's a frosty day, mid-December. My mother is at work and my dad is at an important meeting. No-one will be home for hours.

I rush downstairs, gulping down some hot tea while I pull my coat on. This is it, I don't know how but I'm going to meet him, I'm going to find him again. I will start at Glen Forest and not stop searching until I'm dancing on his feet again.

I finish the tea, chuck the cup in the sink and pull on my boots. I don't wrap up warm because he never seems to either. I check myself in the hall mirror.

I hate my eyes, such a deep brown, almost black against my icy pale skin. They match my chocolate curls that fall in loose ringlets around my face, set hard with determination. Today is the day.

I lock the house behind me and leave the key under the mat. I don't really take in my surroundings as I move toward the gates of Glen Forest, except the fact I notice everything is patterned with frost.

My house sits just across from the woods, now covered in a light layer of snow. Glancing up at the sky I notice thick grey storm clouds brewing in the distance, angry and bruised. It will be snowing soon - and heavy.

I dart into the trees as quickly as possible, leaving the city streets behind me until I'm enveloped by the sounds of creaking branches and rustling leaves. After a while, I'm not really sure how long, it does start to snow. Fat, wide flakes fall from the sky, now turning dark and sinister.

It's cold in the forest. The trees moan and sway and dance to rhythm where there's no tune. The darkness falls like a blanket, accompanying the snow with a deadly silence. Something isn't right.

The snow just keeps on falling. The wind rises to a whistling gale, tugging at my hair and snapping at my bare skin. It sends flurries of snow into my face, my eyes. It stings but I don't care, I press on through the trees until I really am struggling with knee-high drifts. Night has arrived, and my parents will be home soon.

I try to think happy thoughts, like my mother tells me after a bad day at school. I think of the time we were on the Light Walk, because we stopped going after I wandered away. I think of when I was dancing on his feet, bathed in moonlight, like we were the only two people in the world.

I don't know how long I've been out here but it seems like an eternity. I'm shaking so hard and I can't feel my fingers. I just keep moving, hoping he'll find me before –

"Oh!" I fall forward into the snow, sending it into my eyes and my nose and my hair. I can't seem to get back up, my hands are frozen stiff and it's just _so cold._

So I lie there, trying not to cry as the icy wind bites at my face and my hands and the snow begins to soak into my clothes. My ankle hurts; I must have twisted it when I fell. I could just close my eyes now and let the darkness take me, instead of struggling in vain to get back onto my feet…

"_C'mon, let's have some fun!"_

I shakily raise my head, wincing as a new sweep of snow stung my cheek. Do I imagine that voice, that voice which makes my heart sing and sends a cluster of butterflies to batter at my stomach?

"Oh, so weak."

I begin to slip away; I can feel myself falling no matter how hard I try to stay conscious. Who is speaking? Where is my childhood memory?

"Is this what those _Guardians_ protect? Humans like these, who would risk their lives to prove their hero's existence? Just…_pitiful._"

The butterflies turn to vipers and start nipping at my insides. Suddenly I am so afraid, afraid he will never come, afraid I will never get back on my feet, afraid I will die here in the snow. Even the white blanket seems to have a shadow cast across it. The trees have gone, and I am surrounded only by darkness.

"Pitch!" Could it be? Is that really him? "Stop this!"

"Or what, Frosty? Are you going to give me a chill?"

And then everything goes white.

I guess at first I really did think I was dead. When I saw the blindingly white blizzard battling the enormous inky snake of shimmering black sand I thought I'd finally snapped; that my parents were right, I was totally crazy. But when I heard his voice, angry as it was, it pulled me back, like you can do sometimes when you know you're dreaming.

He's screaming but I can't make out the words. Then there's the other one, low and dark and so cold it makes the snow seem warm. I can hear the clashing of what sounds like steel but I can't see because it's dark. Everything went murky just after I saw the snowstorm and the snake.

I call out but I don't think anyone hears me. It's unbearably sore, lying in the freeze. My eyes seem to itch, too. Maybe if I just let go for a moment, and slip...

"Hey, can you hear me?"

I jump at his voice, but when I try to open my eyes I can't see anything but darkness.

"Yes." I try and sound strong but I stutter the word and my teeth won't stop chattering.

There's a pause and an excited intake of breath.

"Here, give me a minute," he says, making me shiver – and it really wasn't the snow this time. "Let me try to get this off you."

A white flash hits my vision and I blink once, twice, focusing on the land before me.

A small lake, completely iced over, surrounded by snow-laden trees and lit up by a magnificent moon sits in front me like a Christmas card. I gaze and gaze and can't even believe how beautiful everything looks, all covered in snow and frost and –

I whisper his name, ever so quietly, and slowly look around. Although the lake is stunning, it isn't the reason I am here. I shakily get to my feet, wincing as the cold stings my fingers and toes. My whole body hurts but I move forward anyway, to find him.

In a split second he comes hurtling over the surface of the pond, bare feet skating the frozen water. He's laughing and sliding and holding his staff out for me to grab.

_Holding his staff out for me to grab._

I look at it uncertainly, now I've found him all I want to do is talk.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," he says, so softly I forget to breathe.

I nod, edging onto the ice and grasping the hook with an unsteady hand. He slowly pulls me closer over the pond; his eyes – those _gorgeous_ eyes - alight with mirth. He reaches the hook and takes my hand; his is as cold and white as mine.

In that moment I didn't care about my parents back home, about the years of ridiculing or the struggle finding him, no. All I cared about was that I'd found my memory, my best friend, the friend who made me feel like I was dancing in the stars.

I smile as he snakes a hand around my waist and we gently slip around the edges of the pond, a tiny skating pair with no skates. I can't stop beaming, or looking at his face. He ever so carefully twirls me in his arms and leans me over, and I'm laughing like the child I was nearly ten years ago. The ice dance ends but we don't move, and I have so many things I want to ask him they're practically in the air already. Why didn't you ever come back? Why didn't you help me to remember, to believe? Why don't you age? Who _are_ you? But I shove them back, wanting to treasure the moment, to be my most precious memory of all. Very, very slowly I lean in closer, my lips brushing gently against his. I hardly pull away at all, a mere millimetre from his mouth.

"Jack Frost," I whisper, hardly daring to breathe, feeling my heart and those damn butterflies thud against my chest and stomach.

He smiles, our faces – noses - touching. "Nipping at your nose."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Like I said at the top, leave a review - it'll only take a second! It would also mean a lot to me, thanks!**


End file.
